


Play For Your Heart

by catsilhouette



Series: fire and ice [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, nursey has a huge thing for dex, they get naughty in the library
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsilhouette/pseuds/catsilhouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Nursey wasn't pining. It was normal to take inspiration from your surroundings, wasn't it? And Dex was around him a lot. It happened. It wasn't anything weird. He resolved to keep things Not Weird.” Or: Nursey gets emotionally confused and Things Happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play For Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Simple Song by the The Shins.

Because sometimes he feels as if he's picking a fight just to have some contact, just to have Dex thinking of him, just to have that rise of emotion associated with him. Because Derek, deep down, deep deep deep down, is actually not that chill. He's rankling, itching at the edges, rearing to go - why else would he be into full-contact sports? But no, Dex was different, Dex made him lose his careful chill on the inside faster than he could comprehend what was happening. He made Derek reconsider things, think things he never had before - because Derek held aesthetically appealing creations in high regard. He liked stars, he liked small, powerful, beautiful phrases, he liked meaningful patterns and fall colors. He had a deep appreciation for pretty things.

Dex wasn't pretty.

He was all hard edges and angles and floppy red hair and blazing eyes. Dex held the locker room door open for him once only to let it go and watch it slam back into Derek's face. Dex was pink and red and orange, like an autumn sunset. He burned too - sometimes he checked Derek and shrugged it off with a casual "Oops," during practice. Not during games. Mostly. They played a decent game - not nearly as good as Ransom and Holster, but at least they knew each other. Derek knew Dex's voice, his position, his structure. He knew when Dex stiffened and stood up just a bit that he needed help, even though he wasn't going to ask for it. He knew that when Dex jacked his left shoulder out a little too much that he had this, and Derek stood by to watch, ready to jump in at any second. And he knew what Dex looked like under those pads and he wasn't ashamed to admit he'd stared, even though he only stared at pretty things.

Dex wasn't pretty.

Derek knew this, just as he knew there was a cluster of freckles that made a blotchy spot under Dex's ribs, and that Dex turned red everywhere at the drop of a hat. He knew that Dex was stubborn, and that no matter what he did, that he could count on Dex pushing back. When Derek ordered a pumpkin spice latte, Dex teased him for getting a girly drink, and when Derek downed two beers, Dex grabbed three, and when Derek playfully pushed Dex, Dex grabbed his beanie and yanked it off. His cheeks grew increasingly flushed with every minute Derek didn't reach for it. His stuttered "Whatever, man," fell on pinkening ears. It was a soft beanie, and when Dex wore it to class and practice occasionally, he refused to look Derek in the eye as he tugged it over his oversized ears. It made Derek smile and look away.

It crept into his writing - he started using fiery imagery and weird pining language and didn't realize it until it was pointed out in his peer review. He stared, incredulous, and crumpled the paper up. He wasn't pining. It was normal to take inspiration from your surroundings, wasn't it? And Dex was around him a lot. It happened. It wasn't anything weird. He resolved to keep things not weird. 

 

And then he got sick. He'd been feeling off for the past week, but suddenly it was bad enough to make him stay in bed all day. His head felt heavy, his eyes would shut of their own accord, and he'd gone through two boxes of tissues in the past day. He texted C and Dex to let them know, resenting the way staring at his phone burned his eyes. He leaned back and closed them briefly, falling asleep within seconds, waking up only when he he heard relentless pounding. After taking a moment to make sure it wasn't just inside his head, he called out, "It's open!"

Dex burst in, eyes searing, brandishing a handful of folders that he threw onto the bed.

"Nursey, you complete fucker. I brought you your homework as payback."

Derek cracked one eye open. "Huh?"

"You know we have a game and you still got sick and you have no consideration for anyone but yourself!" His backpack landed on the floor with a thump and he started taking his coat off, tossing his scarf and gloves onto Derek's roommate's bed. "Do you have a fever?"

Derek shrugged. "Dunno," he croaked. It took too much energy to say anything else. He felt the back of Dex's hand on his forehead, heard him swear and mutter "shit, you're hot," and felt tired enough to let it slip.

It was all a blur - he heard and felt Dex hover around him, getting him water and crackers and washcloths soaked in cold water. Dex's hands were gentle when they brushed Derek's sweaty hair off his forehead, and more than once he heard Dex mutter "Nurse, I will kill you if you leave me to play with someone else, you fucker, why did you have to go off and get sick?" 

 

Derek woke up in the middle of the night, it was pitch-black outside. There was a half-finished bottle of Gatorade on his nightstand, a trash can half-full of tissues right next to his bed. Dex was sitting at his desk, face smushed into a textbook, fast asleep, tired face illuminated by the weak light of Derek's useless desk lamp. A damp, crumpled washcloth was on Derek's pillow and he picked it up, ready to rinse it and go back to sleep. He got up too quickly, reaching for the bedpost to steady himself when he felt the world spin. Somehow, as he turned to leave, his elbow knocked over the Gatorade and sent it barreling into the trash. Shit.

"Wha--" Dex woke up with a start, looking around wildly. "What happened?"

"Shhh, Dex, sorry man," Derek whispered. "Go back to sleep, I just knocked something over, it's okay."

Dex squinted at him, his freckles even more evident under the light somehow. "Nursey, the hell are you doing? You ruin everything." His eyes fell to Derek's hand. "Here, gimme that," Dex rose and grabbed the washcloth out of Derek's hand. "Get back to bed before you knock over the whole building."

"Rude," Derek huffed, but got back into bed anyway, pulling the covers up under his chin. His chirping ability had obviously diminished, which was fairly embarrassing. He heard the tap running, heard Dex walk out, grumbling about...well, he couldn't really hear, but it was most likely about him, and let out a contented sigh when he felt the coolness against his eyes.

"Thanks, man," he murmured. A minute later, he felt the mattress dip and squeak and felt the unmistakable warmth of another person next to him.

"Dex?"

"What?"

"Not to be an asshole or anything, but like...why are you here?"

"Derek Nurse, you got sick because you were doing some hippie shit in the rain, and you're obviously in no state to be left alone and if you're not at practice then what's the point of me being there because we're...well, I mean, there's just no point, okay, and I really don't want to miss practice, honestly, it's in my best interest that you just hurry the fuck up and get better, we have a game, for crying out loud. It's really totally kind of selfish of you."

Derek could feel his head clouding over a little. "But...but why are you here." He reached out and poked blindly, hoping to get Dex's shoulder at least.

Dex squirmed next to him. "Dude no... that tickles. No, stop. I'm here so that you won't get out of bed in the middle of the night and hurt someone. Community service, y’know? I drew the short straw."

Derek was too tired to make out whatever Dex was saying, and it was late, and Dex was warm, so he mumbled "Whatever, man..just, like, chill," and closed his eyes. He slept restlessly, rolling around and constantly flipping his pillow for the cool side. He couldn’t decide if he was hot or cold and flung the blanket off more times than he could count, finally settling into a thick, dreamless sleep. 

He woke up to sunshine streaming through the window and his legs entangled in Dex’s. Alarmed, he looked up to make sure Dex was still sleeping - his ginger eyelashes looked a brilliant golden under the sunlight, and his hair was sticking up every which way in an adorably childish fashion. Derek smiled and reached up with his other hand to mess it up even further, freezing when he realized he’s making things Weird. 

 

He’d expected this to change something between them, that somehow waking up with Dex’s fingers pressing against his hip through the thin material of his sweatpants would automatically make them best friends, and was thoroughly disappointed when things weren’t more than slightly explosive. Every time his fingers brushed Dex’s he expected something dramatic to happen - something real and substantial, something more than Dex’s slightly parted lips and raised eyebrows. And every time, nothing happened, nothing out of the ordinary, anyway, and after a chirp here and again and a punch to the shoulder, everything was right as rain. 

 

Well, besides the fact that they were oddly muted after that, with Dex unwilling to throw the usual punches and Derek busy trying to convince Coach that yes he could actually play. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that,” Dex said matter-of-factly, skating over to where Derek was waiting, by the side of the boards. 

Derek opened his mouth to retort but was overtaken by a coughing fit. He held onto the boards, hunched over, humiliated.

“Jesus, Nursey,” Dex widened his eyes. “Dude, just go. Seriously. Get the fuck outta here, you’re no good like this.”

“Fine,” he glared and moved back, aware of the fact that Dex’s words lacked their usual heat and burn, aware of Dex’s eyes, huge and worried, watching his every move. Derek had expected waking up in the same bed as William Poindexter to be awkward and embarrassing, but it hadn’t been - besides his little slip-up, it was just as fucking normal as everything else and it scared him. He wanted things to go back to normal, he wanted Dex to slam a door back or to check him hard into something, but now he wasn’t even allowed on the ice and Dex looked worried. His chest ached and he turned around, knowing that there was a pile of folders with his name on them, full of homework he could use as a distraction. 

But no amount of homework could pull his thoughts from the way Dex had felt next to him - nearly on top of him, really - all warm and comfortable and golden, or the fact that Dex had actually stayed over despite the fact that Derek probably would get him sick, or the fact that there were no straws involved, short or otherwise, and that the English building was all the way on the other end of campus and really, what the fuck was Dex doing?

Because maybe he’d had a dream or two about Dex. The kind of dream he wouldn’t necessarily share with anyone. And maybe it hurt to look at Dex like that, maybe it made his stomach flip around, maybe it made blood go Places, maybe it made his head and heart throb. And maybe he wanted to know when Dex had crossed from Not Pretty into Holy Shit territory, and why when Dex was nice to him it made him want to throw something out the window. 

More than anything, Derek was just confused. Because there was still that urge to poke Dex, to instigate an argument, to watch his face redden under that scarlet flush, but there was something else too, some hot, uncomfortable desire to tangle his fingers with Dex’s, to press kisses along the back of his neck, to wind his fingers in that silly hair. He wanted to kiss that blotch of freckles, he wanted to bite at that pale collarbone, he wanted to run his hands everywhere he could and god, this was Dex he was talking about.

 

Days passed, melting into weeks with ease. Derek kept himself under control, trying to tamp down the burning sensation he got in his chest every time he thought about Dex. He kept practice carefully civil, but other people were starting to notice - their game suffered when they weren’t all up in each other’s space. His cough disappeared, and every time Dex asked him if he was okay, he settled for responding with a noncommittal grunt. When Chowder asked if he was okay, all wide eyes and sideways pout, Derek’s heart clenched a little and he smiled, pulling Chowder into a hug with an easy “Of course, C.” But that was it - he couldn’t let this spill over that much, he wasn’t even sure what he was letting spill over but it was tense (of course it was, it involved Dex) and it was rearing its ugly head and making C all worried and it had to Stop.

Plus, it couldn’t hurt to be on nicer terms with someone, right?

 

He found Dex in the library, hunched over his laptop, typing furiously. Derek slid into the seat across from him, kicking his foot accidentally.

“Sorry,”

“Huh?” Dex looked up wildly. His pupils were dilated and his hands were shaky - he scowled at Derek and turned back to his screen, muttering something that could have been “I will cry” or “I’m gonna die” or the far more likely “Give me pie” and Derek stared at him for a full minute before deciding that this couldn’t wait. 

 

“I need to talk to you.” He mumbled, gently nudging Dex’s foot with his own. 

“Not now Nursey, i’m in the zone.” Dex said absently, his eyebrows knitting together. Derek looked up to see Dex frowning at his screen, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in an aggressively cute display of intense concentration. 

 

“Poindexter, chill.”

Dex cared. Derek knew that, didn’t doubt it for a second. Because you didn’t stay with people and fuss over them when they were sick (and for hockey bros, what Dex had done was far beyond fussing) and express concern for their well-being and now even C was starting to notice. And really, Derek couldn’t get mad at Dex for not being a crackly spitfire every moment they were together, could he? He knew Dex cared. So much. For the game, for what people thought, for Nursey. And now it was his turn to care. 

“Dex,” he said softly, because they were in a library. “We good?”

Dex glanced up at him, eyes still impossibly dark - and it was then that Derek noticed the three crushed, empty coffee cups partially hidden behind an ugly-looking textbook with a puffer fish on the front cover, and he leaned back, letting his feet hit Dex’s, not bothering to move. Dex had a coffee Thing - it made him sharp and intense and he only ever had it when there was something big due, and he always went hard. The others made fun of him for it but Derek had always admired it - it was cool to see Dex be Human 2.0 sometimes. 

He watched as Dex licked his chapped lips and glanced downward, then back up. “Yeah,” he breathed. “yeah, man, we’re good. It’s...you’re--” he waved a hand dismissively, attempting to communicate something. “I….yeah,” he finished lamely.

Derek raised his eyebrows, hooking his feet around Dex’s left ankle and pulling just a bit. “Talk, man. Use your words.”

“Fine!” Dex spluttered, and oh boy, they were getting looks now. Dirty ones. “I want us back, I want whatever we had before back - all it’s been since you were stupid and got sick is this weird...well, Chowds calls it unresolved tension and everyone’s picked up on it but it’s not, it’s not tense it just feels bizarre and I don’t know man I don’t know what we had but I want it back and I want it now.” His hair was standing up every which way, he was breathing faster than usual, and his eyes were fixed on Derek with a great deal of expectation stuck deep within them.

God. Fuck. Even this wasn’t something they could agree on - Dex wanted less and he wanted more and god none of this could ever pan out - it just wouldn’t - they agreed on nothing. Derek shrugged.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, and cherished the look of pure murderous rage that crossed Dex’s strained face. This was going to be fun. “Everything’s chill, man.”

If in the future Dex ever found himself out of a job - which was unlikely, given that computer science was a growing and lucrative field - but if he did, for whatever reason, Derek felt that he could be gainfully employed as a living and breathing value scale for art students that wanted to see the transition between light pink and fucking maroon in a very short amount of time. His face almost seemed almost darker than his hair, and his ears stuck out like two giant red flags. Derek almost had to stifle a laugh. This was the dude he’d been having wet dreams about.

 

“You--” Dex began loudly, then glanced around to realize that he was probably going to be disruptive, and lowered his voice to a fierce whisper. “I don’t - you do Nursey, you do I know you do oh my god I can’t do this with you right now you fucking moron I have so much work - “

“Keep your voice down, Poindexter, this is a library,” Derek snickered, enjoying himself. If Dex wanted it back, he was going to get it back. “People are like, trying to study here.”

Dex pushed his chair back and got up, grabbing a fistful of Derek’s sweater and yanking him to his feet. He pushed Derek against the wall, disregarding the fact that he was slightly smaller, and poked him hard in the chest.

“Nurse, I don’t know what you’re trying, but you should stop,” he started, crowding up against Derek, squishing him between himself and the wall. Belatedly, Derek realized he was still being poked. He leaned down, impossibly close to Dex. “You’re getting it back, man.” he whispered, ignoring the way Dex’s breath hitched, or how he swallowed audibly and flickered his eyes up and down. Derek sunk his head down, resting his forehead down on Dex’s - he wasn’t sure why this was happening, he wasn’t sure what was happening but something certainly was, and he wasn’t going to ruin this but he had to do something, something small, something for him to hang on to if this went somewhere he didn’t want it to.

And then Dex did something miraculous and wonderful - he tilted his head up and went for a kiss. Derek’s shoulders slumped in relief and he dragged his hands up Dex’s back, tightening his hands, holding onto to Dex firmly as he got the lights kissed out of him. He vaguely registered a quiet moan and wondered if it was him; slowly, he wound his fingers in Dex’s hair, pulled slightly, adoring the way Dex stifled a groan and leaned in harder, crushing the bulge in Derek’s pants with his hips and rocking once, twice, and oh god - 

 

Derek whimpered and clutched Dex’s hair as he trembled, hardly hearing Dex’s surprised “Holy shit, Nursey, already?” as he dropped his head on Dex’s shoulder, panting quietly. He felt Dex mouth against his neck, felt him murmur “Dude, I’m never letting you live that down,” felt his hand against Derek’s back, holding him together. 

And then somehow they were laughing, Dex was kissing him everywhere, and he felt his fingers interlaced with Dex’s, and he felt relaxed and chill and when he tilted his head and kissed Dex’s starry, freckled nose, he felt Dex shudder in pleasure beneath him. 

“You think it’s back?” Derek mumbled between kisses, hoping that Dex wouldn’t freak out about this, willing him to pull this out into something amazing, because it could be, he knew it could.

 

And Dex laughed, a bubbly sound that made Derek’s skip a beat, and shut his eyes, nodding furiously. “Yeah, yeah, man, I think it’s back,” Derek smiled and leaned down to kiss him again, loving the way Dex gripped his arms. He felt Dex kick his legs apart and moaned when he felt Dex rub up against him. He reached up and wound his fingers in that silly hair and pulled, just a bit, and almost laughed when Dex came with a low whine, burying his face in Derek’s neck. 

“We just fucked in the stacks,” he mumbled finally, and Derek did laugh at that, a low throaty chuckle that Dex smiled at. They didn’t know who started laughing first - they’d both blame each other - but it ended with them being kicked out of the library and collecting their things hastily as they were ushered out, trying to control their fits of laughter at the pure ridiculousness of this situation. It wasn’t until they were outside that Derek noticed that his hand was curled over Dex’s and that he’d lied, because it wasn’t back but something else was, something better and hot that left Derek’s cheeks burning and ruined his pants, something that made him understand that Dex might not be pretty but there were a thousand other words to describe him, words that somehow connected all those freckles like a giant constellation, words that left his eyes slightly wet and his body wishing it could feel more, words that made Derek feel so wonderful inside that he slung an arm around Dex for the rest of the way, holding him close as he realized that sometimes, rarely, feelings are pretty.


End file.
